A Flood of Sunshine
by Abby Normal
Summary: Sixteen years after Titanic. Cal silently observes Rose with her family.


Summer 1928  
  
Cal Hockley leaned back on the park bench. This summer he decided to take his family to Philadelphia for a long weekend. It was the first vacation he himself had had in six years. He didn't like breaks. When he stopped working he started thinking. Thinking about everything he had done.  
  
He sent his wife and five daughters out for brunch while he went for a walk. His wife, his boring wife, she was ever so dull. She tired him and wore on him, but he loved their daughters. And his five little girls, his children who he didn't know how to play with. He wanted to teach them games and read them stories, but he didn't know how.  
  
Another little girl of about four, not his own, ran by him. A tall, dark-haired man, presumably her father, ran after her. The man vaguely reminded him of Jack Dawson, although he didn't look anything like him. Besides, that boy was dead, and Rose with him.  
  
The father finally caught up with the little girl and yelped with delight, then tackled him. The strong man fell to ground and played dead.  
  
"Daddy get up." She giggled when he stuck his tongue out. She climbed up on top of her father and hugged him, her golden locks spilling over his chest.  
  
Cal sighed in pain. This was a real father.  
  
A familiar female voice called to the pair and they got up. The man picked up the little girl and they disappeared through a line of trees. Instinctively, Cal followed.  
  
Father and daughter were met by mother and son. The boy was a toddler of about two and the mother was a tall red headed woman. The little boy climbed out of his mother's lap and jumped into his father's arms as soon as his sister was set down, and she crawled into her mother's lap.  
  
It was a perfect picture of family. A mother, a father, a daughter, and a son all outside together with green trees and the sunlight as golden as the little girl's hair.  
  
The wife pulled her husband's face down for quick kiss and then continued to unpack a picnic basket. The girl moved from her mother's lap and skipped off in Cal's direction.  
  
"Don't wander too far." warned her mother.  
  
"I just go under the bush!" shouted the girl.  
  
"Okay," smiled her mother, "but no farther." She shook her finger.  
  
The girl crawled under the bushes.and a little farther. She spotted Cal standing not too far away.  
  
"Hello mister."  
  
He cleared his throat. "Well, hello."  
  
The girl squinted her eyes at him. She had such a familiar countenance. "Why do you look so sad?" she asked. Cal said nothing. "How can you be so sad when it's so pretty out?"  
  
"I don't know. What makes you think I'm sad?"  
  
"I don't think you're sad. I know you're sad. It's easy to tell. Sometimes when I'm sad my mommy sings to me or Mommy or Daddy reads me a story. Daddy sings too, but he's very bad at it."  
  
Over by the picnic the girl's brother had gotten what appeared to be apple sauce all over his face.  
  
"What did you do baby boy?" said his mother, "I don't know how you get any of it in your mouth."  
  
"Rose," said the husband, "what time do we have to be at Rick's?"  
  
"Not until three."  
  
*Rose?* Cal thought. It couldn't be, but it couldn't anyone else. Not with that hair, much shorter than the last time he saw her, but no one else had hair that red. Her voice, the way she moved, it was his Rose.  
  
All those years he thought her dead. But her she was alive as ever. Radiant and beautiful. But where was Jack Dawson? Probably dead for all Cal could decipher.  
  
He was thankful for Jack. He gave him something he could hate, something to be angry about even though Jack had only wanted what he wanted and probably loved Rose more anyway. Nothing stirred emotion in him anymore, save for Jack and Rose, and his daughters of course. Caledon Hockley was dead.  
  
But here was Rose. Alive. God, was she gorgeous. It hurt to look at her. He had caused her so much pain. But now she was happy. She was so free and he was so guilty His existence no longer mattered to her. This wonderful little family she had was all anyone would need he thought. She had a husband who was good with her children. Cal Hockley was dead to Rose too.  
  
"Hey Mr. Calvert," said Rose playfully, "I know somebody's who going to be very upset when her brother eats all of her lunch!"  
  
"Really Mrs. Calvert?" said her husband, "that's very interesting I think I know who you're talking about."  
  
"Oh no!" squealed the little girl. She clapped her hands over her mouth. She was about to skip off towards her family, but first she picked daffodil growing near the bush. "Here you go. This is for you. Feel better."  
  
She stretched out her arm presenting him the flower. Cal took it.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." She gave him a little curtsy and skipped off. "Bye!"  
  
Cal watched the little girl crawl through the bush and back to her family. He hoped she wouldn't mention anything to her parents. But she just seemed to go right for her sandwich.  
  
After the quirky gang was done eating they romped and played. He recalled his eldest daughter reading the story of "Peter Pan" to the four younger ones. The beginning described the Darling family. It was said that Mrs. Darling had one special kiss that nobody could get, not even Wendy or Mr. Darling. When Mrs. Darling danced and whirled in the joyous miasma she you could see the kiss. She was the kiss.  
  
And here was Rose, dancing and playing with her family. She too was the kiss. The kiss that would never love him. Only Peter Pan could get Mrs. Darling's kiss. Cal only knew of one ever to receive Mrs. Calvert's kiss, maybe this Mr. Calvert had gotten the kiss, but he couldn't be sure.  
  
He examined that strange, merry band called the Calverts for the duration of their outing. After lunch they danced and romped and sang like storybook characters. Sometime after they became tired and napped under the shade of a tree.  
  
After her family was fast asleep Rose separated from them for a moment. Walking out into the middle of the small field she looked up to the sky. The blinding light did not seem to bother her in the least; she stared straight up towards the sun. Her arms were down at her sides, not bothering moving them to protect her eyes.  
  
She seemed to give a sort of satisfied nod and then made her way back to her sleeping family. But she did not appear to walk back to the tree, but drifted purposely towards them just as she had towards the light.  
  
Rose stopped in front of the unconscious band, watching them as Cal watched her. She lay down under the tree and kissed each of her children on their foreheads, then finally resting her head on her husband's shoulders and fell asleep herself.  
  
Cal continued to observe them for a time. With nothing more to do, he stalked off. He decided to leave them alone with their happiness.  
  
*Rose.*  
  
She lived. She *lived.* How did she go undetected? Where did she go? What had she been doing these past sixteen years? Did Ruth know she was alive? Poor wretch never left the old Bukater Mansion anymore, it was all she had left anyway.  
  
Cal wandered around the city for an hour or so before stopping at the cemetery. As the time passed the sun withdrew back behind the clouds at nearly the same time Rose disappeared from Cal's sight. He had visited Rose's grave and that of her father's countless times. He went to visit them today with new sentiment.  
  
In the distance, he spotted Rose again. She was about to go through the gates near her family's plot. Her daughter handed her a bouquet of daffodils she had picked earlier. She thanked the little girl and squeezed her husband's hand, staring into his eyes.  
  
There seemed to be an understanding between the two, a strange yet powerful bond. They both had secrets. They seemed to know of the other's secrets, but never seemed to recognize them. Both Rose and Calvert were strange enigmas.  
  
Rose again drifted towards her destination as if she was being drawn towards it. She placed the flowers at her father's grave. Cal crept closer towards her, making sure not to be seen by either Rose or her Calverts.  
  
Next Rose turned the grave along side Henry DeWitt Bukater's. She concentrated on it and let out a strange sigh. She turned away back towards her husband and children, once again leaving the headstones to their solitude.  
  
After she was long gone Cal made his way over to the DeWitt Bukaters. There was never a body below Rose's headstone, now there was no body at all.  
  
He wished he could've approached her. But what would he say? He would be blessed if she left him alive. He wanted forgiveness, but he would dare not ask for it.ever. He knew he didn't deserve it.  
  
He now knew the secret to Rose. He loved her, he'd always loved her. But he held on to her too tight, so tight that she slipped through his fingers. He realized how Jack and this new man Calvert loved Rose. They loved her selflessly as she loved them.  
  
Now Cal loved her selflessly too. But it was too late. Rose was better off without him nonetheless.  
  
He let her leave in peace. He only wished her further happiness, the happiness she had truly earned. Before, only his daughters made him happy, now, Rose made him happy.  
  
He stared at the letters:  
  
In Loving Memory Of  
  
Rose Cornelia DeWitt Bukater  
  
February 24, 1895 - April 15, 1912  
  
Lost At Sea  
  
All the pain he caused her didn't a matter now, not to her. Caledon Hockley was dead to Rose Calvert. Her scars made her stronger; his made him weaker. He grew feebler by the year.  
  
Just before Cal was about to take his leave the sun began to break through the clouds. He looked up, squinting his eyes as it became stronger. He put his hands to his face to shield his eyes.  
  
He looked down at the graves. The sunlight washed over Rose DeWitt Bukater's tombstone. The grave no longer stood under the gloomy gray skies but reflected the golden rays off its surface, much like the woman whose memory it held. The sunlight spread so fast; it spread as fast the water that engulfed Titanic. More and more until every rule Cal had known was washed away too, and was once again replaced by truth. 


End file.
